Ezekiel
by LM Simpson
Summary: AU oneshot. Ezekiel Zick spoke in class today.


**Title: **Ezekiel

**Author: **LM Simpson (Kady the Red Panda)

**Pairing(s): **David/Annie

**Rating: **T

**Warning(s): **Death, AUness up the roof, language, really extreme bullying

**Disclaimer: **Disney, Rainbow and other parties own MA, not me. I also don't own "Jeremy" by Pearl Jam.

**Other tidbits: **Basically my idea of what probably would've happened to Zick if Elena never moved to Old Mill (though she does make a cameo here), with assistance by Pearl Jam's "Jeremy." Why? BECAUSE I CAN!

_Clearly I remember picking on the boy,_

_He seemed a harmless little fuck…_

_How could I forget… _

_My jaw… dropped wide open _

_Just like the day I heard…_

_King Jeremy the Wicked ruled his world_

-Pearl Jam, "Jeremy"

0000

Did you just say "Ezekiel Zick?" Yeah, I definitely remember him!

Did I bully him? Yeah, I'll admit to doing it. It basically was a part of growing up in Old Mill at that age. If you _didn't _bully him, you were as shunned from the rest of the school as he was. I really should've been bullied at school for my speech impediment, but unlike him, I became the bully to save my ass.

Zick really was the black sheep of our graduating class. He was a paranoid schizophrenic; I'm very sure, from childhood. He always claimed to see monsters (my favorite was the one he claimed ate his smell-like-ass shoes every morning), to see his dead grandparents in his living room, and that his (extremely ugly) cat could talk. I don't think he even took medication for it. His mom, who was weird herself, seemed to think he was normal. It definitely got worse as we got older. Zick was destined to be the butt monkey from birth.

Our bullying at first was simply ignoring Mister Lunatic. If he tried to talk to us or ask to color with us in Kindergarten, we'd either leave or just keep on coloring. Then Ford decided one day in first grade to steal his lunch from his backpack during snack time. As we got older, our name-calling and pranking increased until we were ten. I guess Zick just got so tired of our antics that he snapped and went on a brief rampage. Ford, Soup, and I got our asses handed to us. By the time the hall monitor intervened, we were all sore. Ford, the poor bastard, got kicked in the balls. If I didn't have a bloody nose myself, I definitely would've laughed. Zick's just lucky he was gone for the rest of the week. Otherwise, he would have gotten himself into a rematch with us during next day's recess.

He did get a friend in junior high. I'm trying to remember his name. Was it Tad, Thad, Ted… Oh! Teddy! Yeah, _that _was his name! Teddy! I think he was schizo, too: said the same bullshit about monsters that Zick had talked about for as long as we knew him, for instance. He may have only talked about that with Zick during lunch, but we could still hear them. Idiots. It was rare to see them apart, both during and after school. When they were in detention as the same time as my posse, we would see them sneakily pass notes to each other the whole time. For all I know they showered, masturbated, and slept together in the same bed as well. They were so close that when Soup told Pattie and Mattie that the two were faggots, the rumor spread like wildfire throughout high school.

First came the name calling, and then my gang got slightly more creative with calling them out as faggots. We would draw dicks on post-it notes and slide them into their lockers. We'd throw soap at them and whip them with towels during shower time. We even nominated them as king and queen of our junior prom (Teddy as the king/top/husband, Zick as the queen/bottom/wife). Most of the class must have thought it was funny too, as the two did win the titles. When the embarrassed faggots went on stage to collect their prizes, we threw punch at their tuxedos and then crowded them and pummeled the shit out of them. When we finally kicked them out both of them had bloody noses, ripped rental tuxedos, and missing teeth. We were mindless, but at the time we thought we were being very sensible. The girls, save for my then-girlfriend and current fiancée, did something similar to their dates/beards, a hot purple and pink haired girl and a redhead Zick met online, only the ginger lost her high heel shoe to Pattie.

On Monday the teacher informed us that Teddy died shortly after the prom. Apparently he drank all the tequila and vodka in his mom's stash and drowned in his own vomit while trying to sleep it off. Ford stole a glittery lavender dildo from his sister's collection and gave it to Zick the next morning. Y'know, for him to remember Teddy with. (Don't all fags like getting it in the ass? And the color lavender? We thought it was perfect!) Zick just threw the fake dick at Ford's feet and ran into the boy's bathroom. So he was both a faggot _and _a crybaby too. We were going to pester him for the crying too, but he managed to elude us the rest of the school day.

On Wednesday we didn't Zick during homeroom. Ford, Soup, nor I had first period with him, so we didn't know if he came in at that time. But he _was _ten minutes late to the second period class we shared with him, physics. The teacher was pissed and shooed him to the attendance office to get a tardy slip.

When he got back, he was wearing a jacket vest even though it was April. The old teacher asked for his tardy slip, but instead of a yellow slip he took a handgun out of his vest. Someone shrieked as everyone tried to comprehend what the hell was going to happen.

Zick looked like shit. His bed hair was all greasy, his bloodshot eyes had bags under them, and his pale cheeks were covered in tears. The cowardly fag tried to look brave and macho as we watched him bring the gun to shoulder level. The front row kids must have thought he was about to shoot us up, because all of them shielded their heads with their arms. Instead, he just said with a stutter:

"I hope you guys are proud of yourselves… See you assholes in hell!"

He shoved the gun barrel into his mouth and pulled the trigger. I don't remember anyone screaming, panicking, or calling for help. We were all frozen in our seats, all of our jaws dropped as far as they could go. Blood rained on everyone but the ones in the very back, but especially those right in front of Zick. My poor Annie was bathed in blood from her hair to her loafers. His blood spattered about the blackboard and collected in a pool on a floor. Zick's face was half gone. Imagine my poor Annie so frightened she kept looking at that sight right in front of her!

I got real depressed after that. Eventually I became too much of a weakling to make fun of anyone. When I refused to help Ford and Soup start an "I HATE ZICK" Friendbook page, I became their newest target. Some days I wish Zick shot me dead instead. But instead, I've been punished with Zick's half-exposed face haunting my dreams every night. If this doesn't end soon I may need to shoot off my own face to escape him…


End file.
